Anathema
by opal star
Summary: Anathema: destested one, excommunicated. All under the age of thirteen, what is left of the Nix is given into the care of Narcissa Malfoy. Dark seeds are sown and one by one, they begin to hatch in the family's minds. Amelia is left alone.
1. Absolution

_**A/N: Blah. This has been in my head for a long time so I hope you enjoy! One more thing, a big thanks for my beta Crazy Kneazle - go and search her on FictionAlley!**

* * *

Sing for absolution_

_I will be singing_

_And falling from your grace_

_There's nowhere left to hide _

_In no one to confide_

_The truth burns deep inside_

_And will never die_

Muse - Sing for Absolution 

* * *

Amelia fished around in her pockets for a clean tissue. Her mother hated hearing her constantly sniffing; it just made her headaches worse. So she carried one around with her most of the time despite only being eight; it wasn't like anyone else would bother. Saiph Nix wasn't known for her maternal instincts. As for Paul, ever since he started school at Hogwarts,he didn't have the time of day for anyone under the age of eleven.

Someone gently tapped her on the shoulder. It was Paul. He smiled down at her weakly, when she looked up and silently passed a folded, white tissue.

There was something about this place, Amelia mused as she blew her nose and started to swing her legs, something that made people act differently. She glanced around the room they were in; it was quite normal, nothing out of the ordinary struck her no matter how many times she gazed around. She looked around again. It was as though she was half expecting something abnormal to appear.Portraits stood, listlessly, from the walls and paintings that were depicting vacant country scenes or battles that had long lost their shine; they hung noiselessly. Candles were quietly being lit by the house elves to ward off the darkness that had snuck up on them. The only thing that was breaking the surreal silence was Sero's occasional hiccup.

The three of them had arrived by Portkey that was delivered to them by a slim, blonde haired woman She was one of her mother's friends, or so Paul had told her, and was quite friendly considering how cold Paul was towards her. They were taken to her manor that was, according to her elder brother, in Wiltshire.

Amelia looked around again; it seemed as though she was in an antechamber that lead off into a more luxurious room. A room that the blonde lady had disappeared to. Amelia had caught a glimpseof the elusive room as the door opened and was longing for the fire that was blazinginthere, even though it was still onlyearly evening.

Judging by the fact that Paul was furiously tapping the floor with his toes, this was not a visit to be excited about.

The silence was becoming disturbing.Amelia tried to tap her feet like Paul was doing so earlier. However,her feet didn't quite reach the floor andshe had to perch on the very edge of the seat so that the tip of her toes touched the floor Although the patter had no rhythm or pattern to follow, she was content enough to just stomp her feet any old way…

"Shush!" Paul hissed, making her shrink back into her chair at once. He was trying to catch the snatches of conversation that were now audible from the other room. He was straining his ears trying to listen to the low voices that floated through; murmurs that revealed nothing.

Amelia watched her brother, waiting for a reaction.

"What are they saying?"

Her only reply was a frown as he concentrated even harder on the speech in the other room. His head was turned to one side, cocked and scowling harder, staring into space.

"I don't know." he finallysighed, leaning back heavily "I just don't know."

The fact that they were unable to hear anything only affected Paul. His younger siblings were, just that, too young. Amelia was bright but innocent.Nobody had ever hurt her properly; she had no reason not to trust people,and, he thought guiltily, had complete faith in him to get them out of any situation. He almost didn't want her to grow up because the world squashes those kinds of qualities out of one, as they get older. At that moment she was just sitting there peacefully and unaware of what was to come. Paul felt a strong surge of guilt as he watched her joyfully humming as quietly as she could.

Then there was Sero. He was only a baby; he had only just started sitting up on his own and was totally dependant on his mother. The mother who was just as doting back. To him, it was very disconcerting. Not once did he remember being hugged or looked after. They survived, but independently as soon as they hit the age of seven. Amelia always came to him, never their mother. She never comforted them like she had comforted Sero. Perfect, bloody _Sero_.

"Hold him for a second, would you?" he muttered, thrusting the baby into his sister's arms. He couldn't stand sitting around like this, unable to do anything.

Amelia cradled her baby brother in her arms, pulling faces at him playfully when his eyes blinked open. He was usually napping at this time and had even slept through the Portkey journey, only waking up momentarily to burp. She looked down at him, uncrossing her eyes.

His light blue eyes gazed back up at her. Every time she saw them she couldn't help but smile. Her mother, Paul and herself all had dark eyes; green, grey or brown. Apparently, the whole family did. Everybody had dark eyes and soft blonde hair. Everybody but Sero. Sero with his bright blue eyes that sparked like ice crystals, and caramel hair.

Maybe that was why Paul didn't like him? Because he was he was different from the rest of the family? Amelia watched Paul from beneath her eyelashes; he was pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

Finally, he collapsed onto the seat that they were sharing, making it, and Amelia for that matter, bounce slightly. Sero started to burble happily, oblivious to anything around him. Paul shot him a dark look before leaning back into the chair, suddenly looking tired. Amelia swallowed nervously.

"Paul…"

The door banged open, cutting her enquiry short. She forgot what she was going to say as soon as she spotted a figure in the doorway. Vaguely aware of Paul picking Sero up from her lap, she grabbed his spare hand as he practically dragged her off the chair.

Whoever was standing by the door had a look of suppressed anger, and given the chance, it was obvious he would break something, but it seemed to pass when a sneer crept onto his face. Amelia kept close to Paul, finding his hand squeezing her own was comforting. Slowly, they walked across the small room. Dangerous cold eyes followed her as she half-trotted behind her older brother, clinging to his hand.

Paul seemed to know who he was, confirming her suspicions that he knew everything.

"Lucius." he murmured simply, inclining his head slightly.

The man grunted, sweeping into the other room as he coolly beckoned them to follow him. Paul looked down at Amelia for a second. His expression puzzled her; it was something close to apologetic. A split second later, it had vanished and was replaced by a cold, dead look as he stepped into the room, taking her with him.

She expected something to happen as she stepped over the threshold and into the room. A trap door, dropping her into darkness; a bolt of lightning frying her into a neat pile of ash, or, at the very least, someone to yell. Nothing happened.

The serene atmosphere she had left behind was replaced by a tense and nerve-crackling silence that cloaked her as soon as she stepped into the room. She could smell it and almost taste it; it was as though they had interrupted or overheard something they shouldn't have. Paul gripped her hand harder. No one spoke. There were three people in the room other than herself, Paul and Sero; two men and a woman.

The woman, who was a friend of her mother's, was the same one who had brought them there in the first place. Amelia noticed she hadn't even looked up when they had entered; all her attention was focused on a book that she was flicking through idly, looking thoroughly bored. The man who had summoned them stood before a desk laden with parchment and quills. He was leaning back on the dark table, smirking and tapping his long fingers lazily, watching them like a hawk. Amelia looked absently on the desk, seeing a knife, an inkpot and a half empty bottle of alcohol, which was weighing down a pile of papers.

The third man however, had his back to them. His arm was rested on the wooden mantle piece. He was staring into the fire and barely seemed aware of anyone else. Unlike Lucius and the woman, he had extremely dark brown hair, which appeared black at first sight. Like them, he was dressed smartly in black robes and when he turned around, he had a glower to rival his blonde haired friend.

Except, when he saw them, Paul scowling, Amelia half hiding and Sero close to tears, something flickered in his eyes. Amelia wasn't sure whether it was surprise or recognition; she hoped it was neither.

"I am awfully sorry," someone drawled, interrupting the uncomfortable silence quite effectively "I forgot to introduce you all."

Amelia looked at Lucius suspiciously, not sure whether an introduction would be good.

"This is Thomas Riddle," Lucius continued, unaware of their thoughts or wishes on the matter. "Riddle, these are Saiph Nix's children."

"I know." Riddle and Paul both spoke, using each other's tone of voice.

Lucius looked mildly interested but didn't peruse it as he poured two copious glasses of indistinguishable liquid. Amelia watched the parchment spring up once the weight of the bottle was removed. She watched it placidly, almost amicably, float to the ground. It looked like a birth certificate, a familiar family crest embossed on one side but she couldn't see the name (or anything else) in the dim light.

He sauntered over to the fireplace, briefly looking at the woman, who glanced up when he walked past, and handed Riddle a glass. Not once did he take his eyes off her.If she were brave, she would have frowned right back at him, eyes blazing. However, she didn't feel remotely brave at that point and remained behind her brother, fixated on the rug, not looking back at the paper on the floor.

Something must have transpired while she was inspecting the floor because the lady glided over the room to her, kneeling down gracefully to her level.

"Come on, sweetie," she cooed, gently removing her hand from Paul's now sticky grip "Let's go with your little brother and see if Draco has come back from his aunt's."

Amelia would have liked to go with her. She liked this woman despite her brother's less than warm opinion about her, and if she was a friend of her mother's, she couldn't be that bad. Amelia could help but notice that she had such an inviting smile.

Paul found her hand and grasped itharder than before.

"Um well," she stammered, aware of everyone's attention on her solely. "No, I think I'll stay."

After a few moments of silence, in which the woman glanced back at Lucius, she squeezed her arm a little too hard and stood up elegantly.

"Alright then," she sighed demurely, dragging a nail lightly down Amelia's cheek and gazing down at her, her eyes screaming '_I gave you a chance, you blew it, good luck,'_ "But I have to go anyway."

Amelia swallowed, unsure that she had done the right thing. Paul didn't want her to go but she couldn't help wondering ifit wasn't for entirely selfless reasons…

"Thanks." he mouthed, letting go of her hand briefly to adjust Sero's position.

She smiled back lamely, watching the woman kiss Lucius and walk out of the room without another word or backward glance. The two men started conversing. Riddle was barely touching his drink and Lucius was frowning. Amelia could hear them talking, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. The only thing she caught was Lucius looking at Sero (who now had Paul's full attention because of his crying) as he conceded a 'maybe'.

House elves edged in warily to light the lamps and candles. She had no idea it had gotten so dark. The dreary picture above the fireplace was practically shrouded in darkness, as was the rest of the room. The flickering fire did little to light the corners of the ominous cabinets around the wallsand the inanimate objects on the desk now appeared scarier then they were five minutes before. Amelia stepped closer to Paul, wanting to shrink until she was small enough to crawl into Paul's pocket and stay in there forever.

But at the moment, Paul was dealing with Sero, unaware of Lucius slinking back to the desk, drawing out another piece of parchment and retrieving another. Riddle placed the glass on the ledge and plucked the birth certificate from the floor. After a few seconds, he looked right at herfor the first time and his eyebrows shot up slightly. She hid her face behindPaul's comforting robes.

"Have a seat Amy." Lucius muttered, distractedly, breaking the stillness by slamming a drawer. Paul had passed Sero over a few seconds before and she saw him pause when he got the name wrong. Correcting Lucius certainly wasn't going to be her job.

Without a word, she shuffled over to the seat that the blondewoman was seated on before. Sero stopped whinging and wiggling to stare around from his new perspective. Paul suddenly looked alone, standing near the door, not sure what to do with himself. She felt a stab of late sympathy for her brother, watching him alone over there. Amelia had realised too late that maybe he needed them as much as they needed him.

Amelia blinked something out of her eye and stared around. In front of her, with his back to the fire, hands clutching one another behind that, she saw Riddle lick his lips in anticipation. Amelia wrapped her arms around Sero's waist who, thankfully, remained quiet.

"I suppose you know why you're here?"

Lucius was talking to Paul, and Paul alone. Amelia glanced at her brother. She didn't know why they were here; no explanations were offered to her at any point from anyone. All she could remember from today was Paul waking her up, something novel to her, and making a rushed breakfast for her. For the rest of the morning they had tidied the house, her brother frantically checking the fireplace and clocks in turn. Her initial thought was that they were playing a game. Their mother had disappeared again (not as unusual as Paul led most people to believe) and had yet to return. Paul always invented these sorts of games to distract Amelia from her worries; this was the reason to why she thought that today's events were just another silly, entertaining game.

Then, Narcissa, or whatever her name was, had appeared with a Portkey. Amelia had no opportunity to ask any one any questions. She was left in the blue, transported to this room and this situation with no idea what it was about.

Paul saw Amelia's gaze and said uneasily, "Mr Malfoy please, not in front of**-**"

"She wanted to stay," he growled in return, cutting Paul off and glaring at Amelia at the same time. "She can hear all right."

Paul closed his mouth without a word. Malfoy continued as if nothing had happened, as though no one had spoken up.

"I take it you do then, what have you got to say about yourself?"

Paul said nothing, and didn't look up from the floor, she, herself, had examined what seemed like a year ago. Amelia busied herself with Sero even though he was sitting perfectly quietly, playing with his toes, absent-mindedly trying to put them into his mouth whilst watching the whole scene with interest. He wasn't bothered about anything if he was warm and well fed, and to prove her point, his eyes started drooping sleepily.

Not sure what to do with his dead weight on her aching arms, she placed him carefully on the sofa next to her, making sure he would stay there. Dealing with Sero wasn't something she was used to; there was always a silencing charm around her room so she couldn't hear any cries at night.

Her mother always dealt with her baby brother.

"I've heard the rumours." Paul stated mechanically, aware that Lucius was waiting none-too-patiently for a reply. "Are they true?"

From the fireplace, she heard Riddle cough quietly. She looked up but no one else heard him.

"Yes." he replied, relishing the single syllable. "They are. At least, the one's I've heard are."

Paul slid his hand into his pocket and she saw him grip his wand. Even Amelia knew that he didn't have a chance of getting anywhere, except hurt, with it. By the look of the room and its owners, there was dark magic floating around in there. One word from Lucius could render her elder brother dead, or, a lot worse. And then there was Riddle; he looked young compared to his friend, no older than twenty, but there was something about him.

"Oh yes, before we start." Lucius brightly said, raising his wand confidently, yelling a charm that filled the room – "_Expelliarmus!" _

Paul's wand was wrenched out of his grasp. It soared through the room and landed on Lucius' outstretched hand. When he had it, he placed it calmly on the mantelpiece.

Amelia blinked.

Paul didn't look as bothered as she thought he would. He just seemed a little grateful that nothing worse had been inflicted on him. Riddle rubbed his eyes, unaware of Amelia watching him.

Amelia returned her attention back to her brother who was smiling again in a strange, ironic way. Lucius frowned.

"You don't seem very concerned, Master Nix." he remarked, setting his empty glass on the table.

Paul caught his sister's eye before answering, "Let's just say she isn't the sort that would get any awards."

Riddle grinned momentarily, catching Lucius' eye.

Amelia fiddled with her hair guiltily; she ought to be defending her mother's honour, putting Paul right. Only he was right. She had seen other people's mothers; they were nice, cuddly, and made their thirsty children juice and offered to help with homework. Her mother did none of that. All her attention was constantly on Sero. Her attention never focused on Paul or Amelia for longer than a second, if even that. As far as Amelia could remember, it was Paul that looked after her. But he only made sure she wasn't hungry or dirty or cold. The rest of the time she was left to her own devices.

"I wasn't talking about that." Lucius muttered. Paul's reply was a shrug and a somewhat crude remark.

"Fair enough." Lucius commented dryly, "But aren't you concerned about what'll happen to your siblings?"

"We're to go into your wife's care." Paul stared hard at Lucius before adding, "And hers _alone_."

Amelia suppressed a smile, trying to hide the bubble of pride. That was her brother, her brother who knew everything. He knew where they were going, why they were here and as far as she was concerned she was completely safe so long as he was here, knowing what would happen.

Lucius didn't say anything for a moment.

"It's not that simple, my dear boy." he said slowly. He had stolen Paul's smile and turned it into a smirk.

"Sorry?"

Riddle put the glass to his mouth but didn't take a drink. Amelia watched him until he looked at her, which made her look away hastily, even though he smiled at her. Lucius, however, didn't see anything.

"You're not solely in the care of my wife," he answered somewhat happily. "You're going to live under _my_ roof, you're going to eat _my_ food, use up _my _money. Not Narcissa's. So, the courts saw fit to entrust the custody of you and your siblings to _both of us."_

Paul turned a nasty shade of grey

"No reply?" Lucius enquired innocently "Or will I have to force one out of you?"

Paul hadn't so much as opened his mouth when Lucius raised his wand and her brother was thrown back against the wall. There was a sickening crack and she gasped, frozen to the seat. There was blood. Her brother's _blood_ trickling down his forehead slowly. She caught Thomas' eye and saw that his mouth was open for second before he walked up to Lucius and muttered something.

By that time, Paul was on his feet again, though shakily and not inspiring the confidence that he had lost in his sister.

Amelia's imagination was going into over time. If Lucius had no qualms about throwing a twelve year old boy across the room, what would he do with a defenceless eight year old and an infant? Suddenly, she wished she'd gone with Narcissa.

"Well, boy?" Lucius demanded, smiling vehemently in a way that made Amelia feel nauseous. Unsteadily, Paul touched his forehead gently.

He looked scared, Paul really looked scared. For the first time in years he wasn't the fearless leader or big brother to pick her up and make her grazes better. He was just a little boy; he was only twelve and Lucius was treating him like he was someone old enough to have a duel with.

"What do you want meto say?" Paul yelled hoarsely, looking at the blood on his fingertips. "Do you want me to get on my knees, thank you, proclaim my undying debt to you and your wife?!"

Lucius looked taken abackfor a split second but regained his smirk just as quick.

"I'll tell you want will happen," he whispered, his voice deceptively calm "First of all, you're going to shut the hell up and listen for once in your short, fecking life."

Paul scowled at the man in front of him. Everyone, except Riddle, seemed to have forgotten about Amelia again.

"And then" Lucius smiled sweetly, "You're going to do precisely what you're told."

Taking orders wasn't something Paul did unless he saw fit to. He was always the boss of any games, in charge of Amelia's part. His school reports were fine but almost all the teachers asked for more obedience in classes.

Nowhowever, now he was wearing a sour expression, looking at Lucius mutinously.

Lucius just laughed. Knocking back the remainder of his drink, Riddle stalked over to her and Sero, whether to give support or intimidate her, she wasn't sure. She did, however, know that her nerves were doubled. Paul noticed them and looked like he was going to do something then thought better of it.

Besides that, Malfoy had begun paying attention again.

"Paul?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy." he mumbled.

"Good."

A few moments of silence followed again, as Lucius fiddled about with some papers. Amelia wasn't altogether convinced that he was genuinely looking for something. His eyes were glazed over and he was frowning, like he was searching for a way of phrasing his next sentence.

Sero sniffed. Riddle made a small blanket appear from nowhere and placed it over her little brother. Amelia finally managed to smile back at him, though she knew it was a sickly sort of smile. She was too worried about…everything. Her stomach was constantly writhing, spreading rippling nerves throughout her body until her hands began to shake.

Despite her attempts to hide them, Riddle saw her trembling hands.

"Here's what's going to happen," Lucius started, using the most placating tone imaginable. "You're going to take your brother, your sister and yourself to one of the guest rooms. When you get there, you're going to unpack for them and come back here. You're going back to Hogwarts."

Paul opened his mouth but Lucius didn't stop. "You're overcome with grief, you see," At this point, Paul snorted but didn't argue. "And you're going to stay at school until the summer holidays."

The summer holidays? Those holidays were _miles _away. She'd be left here in a strange house, full of people who obviously hated her and with no one but her smelly baby brother for company. Who'd look after him? Sero was helpless without their mother; he could barely sit up and there was no possibility that Amelia could look after him; she could hardly look after herself.

If she and her siblings had to be put into the care of the Malloy's, that must mean her mother was…

Dead.

Oh.

"Do you understand me?"

Paul gritted his teeth. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy."

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder but all she could do was stare blankly at her younger brother. She couldn't stand to look at the one standing opposite her, all alone.

All alone.

Paul hadn't cried in years. Neither had she. Well, months at the very least. Amelia also hated seeing people cry; she found it horrible and uncomfortable.

The sixth year girls were always crying at her school. They'd have a fight, cry, make up, and then cry again. Whoever was still a friend of the weeping wreck of a girl would hug them sometimes, comfort them and try and get them to smile. Amelia would have just stood at a distance, asking every so often if they were okay.

She was fine when someone would trip up, graze their knees and start crying. That was okay, they were in pain, and it was understandable as it could be made better.

However, if someone cried when they were physically healthy, it made her uneasy and edgy. Not to mention, stupid. Stupidfor not being able to do anything to help.

Now, when Paul was leaning against the heavy door of their new room, silently letting the tears roll down his face, all she could do was stare at him, hoisting her burdensome baby brother up every so often. She had asked if his forehead hurt, but he just shook his head up, screwing his face up, sniffing. He hadn't made any noise yet, not any serious sobs anyway; just the occasional snuffle or troubled breath in.

Amelia swallowed awkwardly, lying Sero down in the cot that Riddle had created when he and Lucius dropped them off here. Lucius hadn't even bothered to wait until their trunks arrived, stalking out of the room. A second later, a door was opened and slammed along the corridor. Riddle, who stayed, told her that it was his son's room.

Paul didn't do much talking to Riddle. In fact, he didn't do much talking at all. He just stood there, ashen faced, answering questions with single words or just a nod of the head. In the end, Riddle just talked to her until Lucius returned a quarter of an hour later.

Someone snivelled and she wasn't sure which brother it was.

Amelia sighed and glanced again at the door and her brother. He slid slowly to the floor, landing with a soft bump, his elbows on his bent knees, resting his forehead on his palms, staring into nothing.

Then his shoulders were shaking.

She slipped off the bed and crawled over to him, her knees suddenly shaky and weak. He started to really sob now. Unsure of what to do, she started to lightly tug at his robe sleeve, pulling herself on her knees so she was almost kneeling.

"Is your forehead hurting now?"

There was still crusted, dried blood on his forehead and he rubbed it obstinately.

"No." he replied thickly. "It's fine."

She couldn't stop stroking and pulling the fabric of his clothes.

"Are you tired?"

"No."

"Don't you feel very well?"

He sighed quietly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and then replacing it back to its original position. His sobs seemed to be subsiding but now they were more like choked hiccups, racking his whole frame.

"No, I'm fine."

She had run out of things to say. He was okay, he was _fine_.

"So, you're okay then?"

_Yes, he's fine. He told youhe was fine so he's fine. Let it drop…_

"No! No I'm bloody not!"

She jumped back; he had never shouted at her like that. He didn't say anything else and started to pitifully weep again. She didn't go back to his side even when he sobbed a wretched apology. Maybe he was worried about what would happen to her and Sero while he was at school.

Tentatively, she scooted forward a little.

"Are you worried about going to Hogwarts?" she asked so softly that she was scared that he hadn't heard at all. "Because you shouldn't. Me and Sero will be alright, Tom says that he'll look-"

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, Paul shot up, his temper flaring up once more. Only it wasn't directed at her. He shoved the rusty bolt at the top of the door across violently, making him shudder with the vibrations.

"Don't ever trust him!" he shouted hoarsely. "If you knew what he does…"

Amelia, shocked by this sudden outburst, said nothing in return. Sero started wailing, his ugly baby screams blocking every rational thought from entering her mind. Paul strode over to him, soothing him for a few seconds until he fell asleep once more. At that point, he fell onto the bed, sitting on the edge. She could see the fresh tear stains on his cheek sparkling in the lamp light.

She suddenly wanted to cry herself.

Silently, she walked up to the bed and edged across so she was sitting on his side.

"What does he do?" she asked, gently.

"He…"

But Paul just shook his head and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She hadn't realised how cold she was, hugging his torso comfortingly and closing her eyes.

After a few moments, he shifted his position so she ended up with her head lying on his leg, looking at Sero's sleeping form. He started to fiddle with her hair, his fingers catching on the knots.

"What's going to happen, Paul?"

She felt him tense. Why did she always ask stupid or uncomfortable questions? Eventually he relaxed, brushing the hair out of her face.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts," he replied flatly. "I'll be back in the summer holidays."

"Butthat'smiles away!"

She looked up at him and saw him smiling. "It's the end of the Easter break," he explained. "There's only one term left."

"Oh."

He chuckled but stopped when she asked him what was happening to her and Sero. He merely licked his lips and sighed.

"You're staying here. Under the _hospitality_ of the Malloy's until further notice."

"But my school-"

"Apparently you were removed just before the start of the holidays, so I don't think anyone will be suspicious."

Every sentence he said made her heart a little heavier. All that he seemed to say was awful things, news of unneeded happenings. All her friends would hate her for not telling them she was leaving.

"When do you come back?"

_Soon, please soon._

"I don't know, 'Amelia." he sighed.

Amelia frowned. She hated his nicknames for her but this one was allright. Her friends called her that, not that they were ever likely to again. Her mother rarely called her but when she did it was 'Amelia! Come here!' Her friends were the only ones who called her 'Melia.

So, it was up to her. If he was calling her a normal, nice, name then he really must be admitting defeat. Think, think…

"I know!" she cried, sitting up suddenly and making her brother jump, before breaking into a smile. I have a plan!"

"Oh, yes?" he said, mildly interested.

Her idea was _so_ simple; it was awonder that Paul hadn't already thought of this. It was amazing now that she had thought about it, simply amazing. When they were out of this mess, hewould owe her one, big time.

"You tell your teacher! Erm, Dubbleborn? Dibleydore?"

Paul smiled. "Dumbledore?"

Amelia nodded her head furiously, but Paul smiled sadly. "I can't." he said, simply destroying the budding (and already growing) scheme in her mind. "If I do, you and Sero will be killed."

"Oh. Right."

Slowly, she put her head back onto his leg as he collapsed completely onto the covers. At least he wasn't crying anymore. An awful sort of acknowledgment of his fate, though, had replaced the tears and he was prepared to do nothing about it.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and they fell down silently. That was the last thing she could remember before she fell asleep; the inextinguishable sense of foreboding.


	2. Run

_To think I might not see those eyes,_

_Makes it so hard not to cry,_

_And as we say our long goodbye,_

_I nearly do._

Snow Patrol, Run

The next few days seemed to pass with a blur. Whenever she looked back, all she could recall was an rooted feeling of nausea and anxiety that never shifted. It was there when she went to sleep, it was there when she dreamt about nothing, and it was always there when she woke up.

Time used to go slowly. The days before a school holiday would crawl by, the minutes before home time would last an age. But now… now she couldn't describe it. Because she wanted time to go as slowly as possible, it had sped up, all the more potent for the growing fear and coldness in the roof of her mouth.

Paul would be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. It had been a three days. But they had slowly disintegrated. And she seemed to be the only one that cared.

Sero, though she could hardly blame him, was oblivious to the change. She hadn't even been bothered to do anything with him. Narcissa was quite happy to spend her time cooing over him while her house elf did any dirty work. Amelia and Paul however had to keep themselves amused.

There wasn't a great deal for them to do. Narcissa had introduced them to her son and he and Paul spent day outside talking about Quiddich and boy stuff. Amelia just watched on, feeling jealous and making daisy chains. Quiddich wasn't her favourite past time so while they shared turns on the boy's broom, she chased garden gnomes around until one of them bit her. Whatever his name was, that boy told her rather arrogantly that it served her right for annoying them. Paul could do nothing more than rub it better. His wand was still banned.

But at least after that Paul wasn't as friendly to this boy any more.

That was yesterday and today Draco (or whatever his name was) was off visiting relatives. As was his mother. So she and Paul were laboured with their little brother. Well, Amelia was left mainly to look after him. Even so, Paul noticed Sero had become more worrisome and clingy.

Amelia didn't mind looking after him really. Paul was continually shooting him dark looks while she played peek-a-boo from behind the sofa. At least one of them could still laugh.

But Paul, he had changed too. He no longer shut himself up in his room – not that he had one – and there was barely a minute in the day where he wasn't by her side… except for yesterday but even then he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

All to soon, the evening had arrived and Narcissa had returned, popping her head into their room, asking if they were hungry or if they wanted anything. She was the only one to bother. Amelia had seen Lucius once in her time here and he had never asked her if she wanted anything to eat.

How could she be hungry now?

Paul shook his head as well but mentioned that it was time for Sero's tea.

Soon Sero had gone in a series of fusses and cries of delight when he opened his eyes. Paul was looking pretty spiteful by the time they had left. But all of that had cleared by the time he asked her if she was sure she wasn't hungry.

"I'm fine," she answered truthfully. Correct, she wasn't hungry at all but her insides where shifting at an increasing pace. She continued drawing. Not that she was especially good at it. All she really drew were cats and horses. Paul joined her.

"Want to play a game? You can be crosses if you want."

Surprised, she smiled, gave him the pen and happily watched him draw a grid and begin.

Out of eleven games she managed to win nine, a personal best against Paul, but she had a feeling that her elder brother was letting her win. After a few more games they had covered several sheets of parchment, back and front, and they were only left with one. She had feeling neither of them had the heart to go down the corridor to ask Draco if he had any spare.

She certainly wouldn't. He was such a spoilt little brat and her finger still hurt a lot, no thanks to him…

Regardless, she started to draw the framework onto the latest piece of parchment.

"Wait," Paul stopped her quietly, placing a hand on her arm. "Could you draw me a picture?"

It had been a different three days and compared to other things he had said this was practically _normal. _A picture she could handle, but comforting a crying brother (either one) was quite beyond her.

"Yeah, of course. What do you want?"

Paul shrugged, standing up. "Whatever you want, I don't mind."

With that, he picked up his toothbrush and pyjamas and headed for the bathroom.

Amelia scowled at his retreating figure.

The wave of nausea seemed to subside.

Paul stared at himself in the mirror, splashing his face. All he could see were the bags under his eyes and the blank look on his face.

Scary. It had only taken three days.

What chance would Amelia stand? Sero seemed to be sorted – Narcissa had practically adopted him. Why did that sound strange? It was supposed to happen to all of them. Amelia had watched Narcissa take Sero with big eyes. Her loyalty made him feel worse.

He already felt weak after less than a week in the Malfoy's manor. And he had only seen Lucius occasionally at mealtimes.

His stomach twisted into a tighter knot. He was going to be sick.

What had happened to his life? Less than a week ago he was an ordinary, pureblood teenager. Not at half of that made a difference now. He had never thought of himself especially privileged because of his blood or money but he had thought up as many defences against Lucius as possible.

Again, not that any of it had been much good. He only thanked his lucky stars he was still attending Hogwarts; otherwise he would have joined his father and mother by now. After he finished school still remained a wanted mystery.

But what about what little of his family had remained? Amelia and Sero were powerless against fully trained, dark wizards, they had relied on him and he had seriously let them down. He had replayed images and scenarios of the last few days, seeing if he could change of it for the better. None – except one opportunity that remained in his head, gnawing away at his heart.

When they had first received the owl about his mother's death; the news that they would shortly be going into the custody of Mrs Malfoy and that they should pack everything of use. That was the time when they could have gone. What had stopped him in that ten minute period of freedom to grab some Floo powder and get the hell out of there?

Something told him that he'd never know. The same thing told him he'd regret it for however long he lived.

There was a loud and abrupt series of bangs on the door.

"Come on!" Lucius yelled gruffly, "You'll miss the train!"

Lucius' plan of Paul returning early had gone pear shaped – there had only been three days until the term resumed so he _graciously _allowed him to stay for a while longer. Through the door of the toilet he heard a peel of laughter. Amelia's laughter.

Paul glanced down at the piece of paper in his hands. Amelia had drawn an angel for him. It made a change from the usual fuzzy animals and butterflies she drew. Somehow it was slightly disturbing. The angel had no face or halo. She had said it was their mother.

Hastily, after another shout from Lucius, Paul folded it up roughly and shoved it into an inside pocket. How Amelia knew that their mother was dead was beyond him. No one had said anything. He had always presumed that she already knew. But now she had said it so explicitly, he didn't know what to do.

"What the hell are you doing in there?"

"Just washing my hands!"

He turned the tap on and splashed his hands for good measure. Not that he'd done anything. He'd come in the small toilet to escape for a short while – if only forty seconds – to sort the turmoil in his head out. And to try and get rid of the sickness swirling in front of his eyes.

Wiping his damp hands on his trousers hurriedly, he emerged from the tiny bathroom.

"You took your sweet time." the senior Malfoy sneered, somewhere to the left of him.

Paul presently ignored him. He was too distracted with what his sister was doing. He'd found out where the giggling had come from – her and Riddle were having a tickling competition. It was disgusting – how old was he? Maybe he was just being paranoid… but one day she would grow up.

But his fears evaporated as she squeezed out of her new friend's grip and ran over to Paul, slipping her hand into his. She was still small for her age; all she needed to do was hold onto his fourth and little finger. Riddle looked slightly sour but Paul ignored him and smiled down at his little sister.

"Touching," someone commented dryly.

"Right then, let's get this over with."

Lucius passed Riddle the pot of Floo powder. "You're next, Master Nix."

"I've only travelled by Floo twice," Amelia whispered, tugging on his hand, "What will I do if I get lost?"

Paul glanced up at Lucius, who, thankfully, was busy talking to Riddle about something.

"Then run."

Lucius had taken him to the side, away from the crowds at the station, presumably to reinforce his instructions of 'not a word to the old coot otherwise you'll be greeting your siblings bit by bit' talk he'd held yesterday. But it was nothing to do with that.

Nothing was said for a few moments.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"

Seriously, if he wasn't going to saying anything, he might as well go back to Amelia right now. In fact he would…

Lucius caught his arm. "Alot more cocky now you're reunited with your wand." Lucius commented, more to himself than anyone. Paul shrugged. He was hardly going to do anything in a public area, was he?

"Well," he continued, "If I can't get you, I'm sure your younger sister will be around."

Merlin, his hatred for this man increased every time he opened his big mouth.

"You'll do nothing to Amelia," he hissed vehemently, sounding far more confident than he felt taking a step forward. "Nothing."

Lucius looked down at him (though there was hardly a huge height difference) and smirked.

"Don't worry," he soothed in possibly the most suave tones Paul had heard come out of the man's mouth ever – quite an achievement. "I won't lay a finger on her."

Ah yes, Lucius seemed to have extra loathing stored up for Amelia. Paul had no idea why. That was the most worrying thing.

But why was Lucius smirking like that? Paul looked over to his sister.

Riddle was looking after her, crouching down to her level, pointing to something on her chest then flicking her nose playfully as she looked down. Amelia laughed though Paul couldn't hear her through the noisy crowds. He played that same game with her. Any second Riddle would make a Chocolate Frog appear from behind her ear.

"Don't let that… _man_ near my sister or… or…"

He couldn't get the words out of his mouth. Which made Lucius' sneer grow, which made him all the more infuriated. Though they were hardly going to be threatening from a, at best, lanky thirteen year old. It wasn't like he was going to do him any serious damage – he was only in his second year for Merlin's sake. Hardly lethal.

His point had been made though. It didn't matter it he was armed with nothing more harmless than a grape, someone was going to get hurt if they so much as laid a finger on Amelia…

Lucius tutted dramatically.

"Sharper than a serpent's tooth," he sighed enigmatically, "Is a boy's ingratitude." Paul frowned. Puzzles and rhymes were not what his mood needed. But Lucius persisted, now almost musing aloud. "Still, the proudest spirit can be broken, with love."

At this point, Paul really did walk off. He wasn't talking about him. And Lucius had

Fecking Malfoy's. Like _he_ knew what love was. He had had seen Lucius' son, he had spoken to him – the boy idolised that man.

And not in a good way. Paul never remembered his father much.

He was nine when he had died – Amelia was five – but even when Mr Nix was alive, he was always away on business. Sure Paul supposed he loved him at one point but did he worship him, wanting to do whatever pleased him?

No. He especially would not if Lucius was his father. The only little beacon of hope he could think of involving Draco was that one-day he would grow up and figure out what a bastard his father was.

For the moment, he drew the conclusion that all Malfoy's were mad. Narcissa was a good example – having his mother as a friend among other things.

Without warning, he picked Amelia up and she squealed with pleasure. He held her close. Never before had he felt so worried about going to school. His first year was nothing compared to this. This was the same sort of fear only worse; he knew that nothing that he did could affect his sister and her new life.

His sister's arms were around his neck.

"Don't worry," she said innocently, "Tom said he'll take me shopping for some new clothes and toy's. I'll be fine!"

Instead of blowing up like he expected himself to, there was a slow, deflating feeling in his chest. He smiled kindly at his sister. Did she need to know all the troubles that were circling above her?

Sooner or later she would know, but he just wanted her to have as longer childhood as possible. It probably would only last a few months more. Maybe even a few years. Then he would leave Hogwarts.

Then she would grow up.

"Cool," he replied, watching Riddle's smirk shrink with no small amount of satisfaction. If he wanted to see him blow up, he'd have to wait a while. "Buy something nice," and as an afterthought whispered as he put her down, "And expensive."

She giggled and before another word could be said, there was a hand on his shoulder and a sharp piercing whistle.

The train was leaving.

He gave her a brief kiss and one last hug and ran off to the scarlet train, begging his tears to stay inside. At least until they had left the station.

It was in one great swathe of steam and smoke that the train, and her brother, disappeared from her sight. Paul had kept his head stuck out of the window even after the vapour had shrouded his head. She was still squinting, minutes after she has glimpsed the last compartment slip around the corner.

_Goodbye. _

Her gaze was broken for her. Someone placed their hands on her shoulders and turned her around.

It wasn't Tom. Lucius smiled down at her.

Thank goodness she hadn't been crying.

_Run. _

Paul had warned her not to trust anyone here – especially Lucius and Tom – and in no uncertain terms told her that Lucius seemed to have some agenda to sort out. He didn't say what exactly but all it did was puzzle Amelia. Fair enough hating her family, but why her in particular?

It was bad enough that he made her nervous by just his presence.

_Run._

"Don't get lost," he ordered, then as an after thought, "And don't you dare try and slink off."

_Run. _

Amelia subconsciously started to chew her nails. "Where's Tom?"

Lucius' lip was curled as he scanned the platform of departing parents and families. Last year she was one of them. Lucius didn't seem to have heard her. She repeated her question.

"I'm not sure."

"So we're not going shopping then?"

Lucius was distracted now, so distracted that he even dared to hold her wrist as he walked through the crowds. There was no chance of disappearing either. He had a hard, steely grip on her wrist and she was half dragged through the platform.

Suddenly he had stopped and pulled her to his side. She squirmed out of his grip.

"Not with my money your not," he snapped, making her shrink away. She bit her lip, blinking back her tears. Lucius noticed. "Not so brave without your brother, are you?"

She didn't know what he was talking about. She had never been brave in the first place.

Then she saw him grit his teeth impatiently. Good! She was glad he was in a bad mood. Hopefully, all his teeth would fall out…

Lucius started to drag her across the platform, towards the fireplace in the stationmaster's house and she was reminded why exactly she didn't have any confidence.


End file.
